Sandy Hook Locals Face New Reality

NEWTOWN, Conn.—One after another, residents in this normally peaceful New England community said they awoke Saturday hoping that it had all been a nightmare.

But reality quickly intruded.

Lt. Paul Vance of the Connecticut State Police delivered a press conference late Saturday on the progress of the investigation into the school shooting in Newtown, Conn. Friday. Photo: AP

Reporters and television crews from countries as far away as Poland and Japan clogged the red-brick sidewalks of Sandy Hook, a Newtown village, reporting on the elementary school massacre, while—in stark contrast—local news racks still held the latest edition of the weekly Newtown Bee with its pre-tragedy front page dated Friday, Dec. 14.

The big news in that edition was that vandalism had left headstones cracked at the Newtown Village Cemetery.

Locals in delis and diners hugged and shared information about who was safe and who was not. And the village, so carefully decorated in red bows and evergreen for the holidays, was now dotted with handmade signs on storefronts and mailboxes. "Our hearts are broken, our spirits are strong," said one.

"For the first few hours, it felt more like a dream that I expected to wake up from, but then I walked outside and saw the flag at half mast," said Jesse Pasacreta, 17, describing the village's best-known landmark, its flagpole on Main Street.

"It was just weird seeing that it was real. I mean, two days ago, we were just a town where nothing happened," he said.

His mother, Jeannie Pasacreta, a 55-year-old psychologist who has a practice in town, said she had been up all night talking to friends and clients. "People are in shock, people are grieving, and it's happening around the holidays," she said. "People feel guilty about having their decorations out. In my neighborhood, they are having a cookie swap and I think they are cancelling it. People don't know what to do."

Tyler Renkert, a 47-year-old father of three, woke up early Saturday and headed alone to Sandy Hook Diner, where he grabbed a seat at the long counter, ordered eggs, and prepared himself.

He needed to talk about the tragedy to his three young children, who attend a different local elementary school. But how, he asked, do you explain "evil?"—and should you?

The children had already asked some questions. "We're going to get a Christmas tree later today but the conversation this morning was about the person who got into the school," he said, peering wearily out from under his baseball cap. "It's my job to teach my children about how the world works."

Mr. Renkert said he grew up in Newtown, left the area with his job with a technology company, and then moved his family back to his hometown five months ago for the well-regarded schools and the peaceful pace.

Ellie Lewis, a co-owner of the Sandy Hook Diner, put on Christmas music for her customers but said she felt anything but cheery. She said she was thinking about Dawn Hochsprung, the 47-year-old principal of Sandy Hook Elementary who died in the shooting—and who came to the diner for breakfast many mornings before school, holding meetings, and always leaving a generous tip.

Throughout the town, everyone seemed to know someone who had been involved. Local resident Marsha Moskowitz, walking through downtown, said she had been a Newtown school-bus driver from 1999 until last June and that she drove two of the young victims.

"They were innocent, innocent little children who didn't get to experience life and died so tragically, and left a hole in the hearts of their families and the town and the whole community," she said.

She said she was walking her dogs Friday morning when she heard sirens. "I said, 'something has happened in this town. This is no regular fire.'"

She woke up on Saturday "hoping it was a nightmare, but it wasn't, so I reached out to parents of the kids," she said, tears coming to her eyes as she recalled talking to one mother.

"That's when you break down, when you listen to a mother screaming and crying," she said.

At Sandy Hook Deli, Luca Crudo, 15, was sipping iced tea on Saturday as the TV announced the name of one of the victims: Mary Sherlach, the school psychologist at Sandy Hook Elementary School, where he had attended.

"She was really nice; she was like really gentle and had a soft voice," he said. "I remember doing puzzles with her."

The Crudo family—Christine and Frank and their three children, ages 15 to 20—had come to the deli, spreading out by a table at the window, after spending almost 24 hours close to home. They had been comforting one another, and neighbors whose child escaped the shooting, but now they sought the cameraderie of other residents.

"I just felt this need to go into town and see my friends," said Christine Crudo, 47.

Frank Crudo, 52, who works in finance for the U.S. division of Burberry GroupBURBY3.37% PLC, the British fashion company, commutes more than two hours each way to New York City so that his family—originally from Canada—can live in a tranquil New England village.

As the locals gathered, the discussion touched not only on how the town has changed, but why.

Jeannie Pasacreta, the local psychologist, wondered about warning signs missed with Adam Lanza, the alleged gunman. Her oldest son was in the same graduating class as Mr. Lanza, she said, and had recalled a loner who didn't display unusual behavior.

"When you have mental health problems in a quiet compliant way, people don't pay attention," she said.

The conversation moved to guns.

"It was a big shock for us when we moved from Canada, that you can go buy a gun at the store," Ms. Crudo said, shaking her head. "That absolutely amazed me."

But her friend sitting nearby, Lynne Erhardt, who is 48 and has two older children who attended Sandy Hook Elementary, responded that perhaps school administrators should have been trained to use guns to protect the children.

After all, Ms. Erhardt said, there are armed security guards at government buildings. "Are our children worth any less?" she said.

Ms. Crudo said such conversations are "the new normal" in Newtown.

"I think it's going to be 'before and after,'" she said. "Nothing will ever be the same."

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